Surrender of a Tattooist: Obsessive Dark Romance Alpha Bad Boy (Tattooist Series Book 2) Read Online Free PDF Page A

determined?”
    “No.”
    She lifted an eyebrow, “No?”
    “No, you just make me want to be determined.”
    “I see. You know there’s a mental illness attached to that sort of statement.”
    Cliff’s lips twitched. “I know, but I promise you I’m not nuts. I like you, that’s all. I like you more now. Is that crazy?”
    She said, “If it is, I must be crazy too, because I was really prepared to hate going out with you.”
    “Then why did you?”
    She gave him her sweetest smile. “You kept asking.”
    “I see.”
    She smirked. “Maybe persistence really does pay off.”
    “We’ll see. You haven’t said yes to a second date yet.”
    Pixie settled back into her seat. Damn, he was irresistible. “Are you going to ask me out on a second date?”
    Cliff pretended to think about it. “I was thinking I’d wait until we were back at the shop. That way you couldn’t cry off on the grounds you had to say yes because you were stuck in my car.”
    Damn, he was funny. She hadn’t expected that. “Good plan. I’ll be saying yes.”
    He asked, “Do you want me to take you back to the shop, or would you like to see my house?”
    It was loaded question and she knew it. He wanted her, and she knew it. She wanted him too, though—and badly. Every cell in her body craved him.
    “I’d love to see your house,” she whispered in a husky voice.
     
    * *
    Cliff lived in a small and quiet neighborhood. His house was an older ranch-style home, rambling and long. The yard was neatly cut and the driveways of the nearby houses were filled with cars that looked like his.
    Pixie relaxed. Cliff’s neighborhood was solidly middle-class, a place she could feel at home in. Despite her love for Joy and her gratitude at Joy always opening the condo to her, Pixie always felt out of place there.
    Beverly Hills, even the flats, made her feel like an imposter. She wanted to be successful—at some point—but money was not how she measured success.
    “Nice place,” she said as they got out of the car.
    Cliff said, “It’s just a lease but it works for me. I had a roommate at one time, but once I started working for Hawk I didn’t need one as much anymore.”
    “Oh?” She was nervous, and at a loss as to what to say.
    Cliff waited for her to walk toward him and then his hand met hers. He led her up the small strip of concrete that led to the plain front door as he said, “Well, yeah. Before I worked for Hawk I worked in a bunch of shops, but none of the dudes who ran them were as fair with money as he is. And they didn’t get nearly the amount of business either.”
    He opened the door and they stepped into a short foyer. The living room was undeniably masculine, with leather club chairs scattered around and a low sofa pushed against one wall. A massive television took up most of one wall, and the kitchen, visible thanks to the open concept plan, was neat and tidy.
    The house was nice, but she couldn’t stop staring at him.
    “Would you like some wine?”
    She nodded. It wasn’t like her to be at such a loss. She knew part of it was the desire pulsing through her body, but the other part was that voice up in her head screaming at her to be careful, very very careful, because this man could hurt her so badly she might never recover.
    He went to get them a glass of wine. “Red or white? I’ve got a Shiraz-Merlot and a Pinot Grigio.”
    “The white, please.” She looked around the room. There were a few personal things; photographs and old football trophies.
    Cliff came back out and handed her the wine. They settled down on the sofa and she sipped her wine, trying to think of something interesting to say but came up empty. The steady stream of passion running through her was overwhelming her. She just wanted to rip his clothes off, screw politeness.
    She set her glass down and turned her head, meaning to ask him when he bought the house, but never got the words out. Cliff’s mouth came down on hers. His lips were firm and